WARNING, Bear with Sore Head

Man, did I ever get up on the wrong side of my bed this morning.

I don't know which came first, the pickies or the grumpies, but it's growing increasingly obvious to me that the two go hand in hand. Being grumpy makes me pick and picking makes me grumpy. No, that's inaccurate. Picking chills me out. Knowing what I've done, AGAIN, afterwards, is what gives me the grump.

My mum tried for years to tell me that I pick more when I get stressed out. Of course at the time I neither listened nor cared, and I certainly wasn't grateful for the observation. I only wanted her to shut the fuck up and stop reminding me how ugly I was.

Kelvin came home last night. He's been away for a week on holiday. I was looking forward to him coming home, and then when he did... I don't know. I had been hoping he would be as glad to see me, I guess, which was dumb, because who the hell is happy about coming back from holiday? Especially late at night after travelling all day. And then I felt really stupid and pathetic for wanting it to be a bigger deal than it was. For acting like a dumb puppy waiting for its master to come home.

I quarrelled with Leanne during the day, too, as much as anyone can quarrel with her, that is. She did her usual trick of turning into a total martyr at the first sign of crossed words. It drives me nuts when she does that. But maybe that's just because I'm cruising for a fight and she won't give me one. In any case, she'll now make a point of staying out of my way for a couple of days, like, "Oh, I'm just going to go to my room and listen to some music... I can see you're not in the mood for company, I might go out for a walk or something... I don't need to leave for another half hour but I'm just going to go sit in the car..." And make a big deal of putting herself out to accomodate what she thinks I want or need.

Lightbulb going on my head a second... Maybe she doesnt' do that to annoy me, or to prove that she's the nicer person, or to try and make me feel guilty. Maybe it's just that I'm not very pleasant to be around when I'm in a bad mood, and she doesn't like to come right out and say "I'm getting the fuck out of here so I don't have you put up with you being a moody bitch at me."

Marvellous. So actually, I'm the big bad. Now I'm even grumpier.

This is getting kind of off-topic. This is meant to be a blog for my dtMania, not for random rantings about whoever happens to have pissed me off at the time. That's what my diary is for. Although actually, I haven't written in my diary since I started this blog...

Anyway. I picked. Again. After four days Tue-Fri, I had a 'miss' day on Sat and a big fat 'X' day yesterday. I had a nasty sore one on my forehead and it just had to go. And then, because I was grumpy, I moved on to the next, and the next...

If I had stuck to my regime of look-free and touch-free, I wouldn't have even known it was there. I shouldn't have even known it was there. But it was so much easier not to look/touch when I knew there was nothing there but scabs. After a couple of days pick-free, I started obsessing over what fresh zits might be popping up all over my face... and by Sunday night I was back in front of the bathroom mirror, doing what I do.

Urgh.

I have come a long way. And now it feels like all I have been doing is stripping away the fur and the flesh on this thing that has me in its grasp, and so now it is just a cold hard shiny metal skeleton, and I can see it for exactly what it is, but that's no help because no matter how hard I struggle and wriggle, its claws are digging into me relentlessly and I simply cannot get away, however hard I may fight. I really feel like I am just fighting, fighting, fighting and not getting anywhere anymore. And I am tired. I am tired of the constant effort of fighting this monster. I may as well just quit wriggling and let it eat me. At least then I wouldn't be perpetually waiting to fuck up. Let's just get the fucking up over with, and go back to our daily lives.

clever girl, way to go; zero stickers in a row